


Deathknight Kishara

by Archangel_Beth



Series: MMO Fics [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/Archangel_Beth
Summary: One of my characters, a Draenai Deathknight ("Deathknight Healspec") developed a rudimentary personality in my head and got a micro-fic and a slightly longer one.





	Deathknight Kishara

* * *

* * *

Even as an undead horror, Kishara retained her connection to the Light, her ability to heal. Some might say that the Naruu had not forsaken her, in the pact between them and her race.

Kishara doubts; she used her ability in battles, to heal herself and not be slain by the living humans she fought. She thinks... _no one_ likes the Scarlet Crusade.

* * *

The Draenai sat in the hot Westfall sun, covered from horn to hoof with armor. Her tail was hidden beneath her cloak. Her face was hidden beneath her helm. Nothing but the color of her horns and tint of her hooves showed why - though the distinctive Death Knight armor suggested the reason. Shame, or risk of accelerated rotting, perhaps.

She remembered her name, she supposed. At least, that prisoner had called her that. She didn't remember anything else he'd spoken of, but she'd been one of the undead army left behind when its leader had renounced the Lich King, and it had been better not to suggest she was anything but free-willed.

She _was_ free-willed, anyway. Lack of memory of her life didn't mean she couldn't choose a different undeath. She'd taken up the blacksmith's trade (or re-taken it; she'd not gone looking for life-friends to ask), and this Westfall place had raw materials. The hazards were no match for her undead skills.

She was trying not to kill the bandits too much.

"Excuse me."

She looked up. Another Draenai, just the race she'd been trying to avoid in these human lands. Another female. "Yes?" she said politely, her voice echoing in her helm.

"I've been tasked to remove the bandit threat - at least till the leader's men can pay a priest to bring him back. I don't think I have the skills to try alone. The innkeeper said you might be available as a bodyguard..."

She'd heard about the rebel hideout, somewhat. It was big. There were lots of bandits inside. There would be fighting. Killing. They would fall like grass before her blue-runed blade.

Since she'd woken, killing had been her best skill. She stood. "I'll come." Her steed, no longer much of a horse itself, was as bored as she was. A little exercise would do them both good.


End file.
